Quick Reply

It was that time again. Had birds and other small creatures been intelligent, the first time they saw Sikitiko put a paw out of her den with an empty bowl in her maw would've resulted in a mass evacuation of the surrounding area. But they weren't. There weren't many song-birds in the Savannah, particularly in the Pepo'porojo lands, but as far as the Caplata was concerned every single one of them congregated around her den, every day, just to annoy her. And for that she would smite them all, some day.

But today was not that day.

Stalking along through the pridelands, the old Caplata clearly had a purpose; this was evident in both her stride and in the bowl she carried. Mercifully her journey was quiet, except for the chirping of those damn birds. But then she came to a den, and the indigo-pelted female hesitated. She knew she had to go, for Mawu would be offended should her extensive collection of bones be uncleaned. Yet still she dreaded the encounter that was to come.

Finally, with a hiss she entered, setting down her precious container. "Oh, wise Medsen Fey, I have arrived," Sikitiko called derisively to the soul she assumed was further within. Just because her journey was required didn't mean that she had to enjoy it. She did not await a reply, and instead picked her bowl back up and began to move forward.

Posted: Sat Jan 15, 2011 8:07 am

((Since she's the old Caplata and he's the wise Medsen Fey, I hope you don't mind if I assume he would recognize her?))

Today was not his day. Or perhaps that would have been putting it erroneously; today was not a day to test Eran's patience. Only that morning, he had had to meet with this baboon contact regarding what he could only politely put as discrepancies that he had discovered in the production of a new cure he was testing out. Not only had Abil attempted to relieve him of his last remaining armband (those damned, slippery fingers), but the baboon had also come a hair's width away from dislocating Eran's glass fixture.

The dark lion had gotten what he had wanted--the baboons would reexamine their procedures--but he had lost what precious little patience he had had to begin with.

And that had been early in the morning. Having just woken from a brief nap to add to what little sleep he had gotten last night, the Medsen Fey was... well, he wouldn't quite admit to being cranky, but he was certainly less than pleased. It was going to be one of those days. One of those days where he would have to tread carefully, as would everyone else around him. He wasn't hoping for something to set him off, but undoubtedly somebody would. Eran certainly hoped it wouldn't be Firyali today. He took it out on the poor girl too often, as it was, but if the situation warranted some sort of reprimand, he would be ready to provide one.

So when he heard a voice just outside, heard the condescension that followed it, he choked back a grumble. He shut his eyes and counted to five, thinking carefully about the voice. Certainly, there was something familiar about it.

When he opened his eyes, his tempered had faded, for now, and he emerged from the shadows to eye the lioness briefly. His gaze went to her rich fur and the dark pelt that coated it. The skull, the expression, the way she walked as she entered. Then past her, his gaze flitted to the empty den opening, marking the position of the rising sun and the odd bird lingering nearby.

"Hm." He glanced down at the empty bowl that she held. He knew this one, or at least knew her reputation. Though Eran had never met this particular lioness in person before, he had heard of the old Caplata. "What do you need?"

MoonRazor

Online

Larisha Dragonchaser

Offline

Posted: Sat Jan 15, 2011 11:53 am

((Yeah, I was going on that assumption. I don't know how prides work particularly, but I assume that most of the felines in them would've at least heard of each other, if not had previous encounters.))

The lioness couldn't help but jump when the dark-pelted Medsen Fey practically appeared from the shadows. Jeez! Was the sneaking and the creepiness really necessary? She gave him a bit of a hiss, clearly displeased, before depositing the bark-skin bowl at his feet. "Dlo benit." She gave him no pleasantries; No 'please', no 'thank you', nothing. Just an order and the means to fulfill it. This may have been one of the most experienced Medsen Fey in the pride, but that didn't change the fact that she was still older and still superior, at least in her eyes.

She did not back away from the younger male after her order was made. Instead, she remained, evidently intent on following or supervising the ritual. This couldn't end well.

Posted: Sat Jan 15, 2011 11:40 pm

He picked up a bowl without another word, shooting her a sidelong glance that cast itself once more across her face and to the pelt on her back. He had heard about that, too, the pelt. Had always wondered if the word on the street had any merit, but Eran wasn't the probing type, and even if it had been his place to ask, he would have left it at that. Other creatures' lives were not always worth the time it took to find out about them, and this was an assumption that the Medsen Fey had broadened to encompass all creatures' lives, whether big or little.

He had better things to fill his mind with than gossip and old wives' tales.

He didn't stop perusing his stock of already-made concoctions until, upon a second glance, he realized that she had remained where she was instead of backing off, and seemed far more of an intrusion into his private space than she had before.

What.

If he hadn't known better, or if he had been a believer of conspiracy theories, he would have been inclined to think that she was doing this on purpose. After all, it wouldn't have been difficult for her to detect his... mild irritation, and it certainly didn't take much to push that further. Of course, it rarely occurred to Eran that few other creatures tended to be as aware of their environment as he.

His eyes flickered toward the lioness again.

"What's your name?" Well, he knew her name. But that wasn't the point. He had to make some conversation before her nearness drove him to a tipping point and he literally threw her out of the den. Neither of them wanted that, he was sure.

And he was stalling. Buying himself some time, just for the hell of it, because he imagined that it would annoy her. He had never gotten on all that well with authority.

MoonRazor

Online

Larisha Dragonchaser

Offline

Posted: Sun Jan 16, 2011 1:28 pm

Small talk? Really? The Old Caplata's eyes narrowed. Why should she give this simpleton the time of day, much less her name? And how did he not know her name by now? She knew of what the waggling tongues in the pride said. It was fortunate that they primarily spoke the truth, or else her reputation may not have been as fearsome and she would've had to put up with more dung-brained idiots than she already did. Her peace was her second most priceless possession.

Grudgingly, the lioness spoke again. "Sikitiko," she hissed. If this idle chatter caused this appointment to take any longer than normal, Mawu help him. The Petro Loa were already beginning to grow restless with her, and herself without them. She had been busy as of late, with this and Takis and all of her other spiritual obligations. Without her beloved spirits, she felt lost, irritable. Or at least, more so than usual. She would have to return to them soon or face the terrible consequences.

Out of all of the spirits, the Petro Loa were the ones you should appease at all costs. They were cruel, wonderfully so. It was one of the reasons why she loved them as much as she did, but even Sikitiko was forced to admit that she was likely little more than a pawn to them. It was in their nature to scheme and manipulate.

The lioness waited silently, not willing to extend the same question to the Medsen Fey. She genuinely did not know his name, and didn't particularly care to. Instead she continued to scrutinize his actions, watching for something...

Posted: Wed Jan 19, 2011 1:22 am

It was a game, really. He knew she was impatient, could tell by the way she responded and the way she stood. So it became a game of finding the perfect balance between dragging the encounter out too long and letting her leave without first having had his share of the fun.

Of course, fun wasn't quite the right word for it, but when he had had countless creatures come to him for refills of dlo benit and few of them bother to act like the trip wasn't a bit of a chore, Eran imagined that he had earned himself the right to be a little bit irritating. It was nothing personal, really, and more a case of Sikitiko's being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But their mutual disdain had come together and worked in such a way that Eran supposed that neither of them would emerge from this encounter feeling any less irritated than they did now.

"Hm." He said in response to her name. He glanced once more at the pelt on her back, then back to his work as he shifted through the various medicines he kept on hand, just in case something was required in an emergency. "That fur looks..." He paused. He had come close to a compliment of sorts, but then, he wasn't sure if that would have been lying. To be honest, he thought neither good nor bad of the pelt. To the Medsen Fey, it simply was, and that was all there was to it. He had no desire to pry into her personal life, and even less desire to know any of her business. "Suits you." He said finally, if just for the sake of finishing his sentence.

MoonRazor

Online

Larisha Dragonchaser

Offline

Posted: Sun Jan 23, 2011 10:00 am

She previously had not cared for his name, yet now that he hadn't introduced himself she could feel a faint irritation. First, the Medsen Fey irritated her by initiating small talk, and then he didn't even give her his name? It was a hypocrisy in herself that she didn't recognize as such. Sikitiko batted at the ground in front of her, letting out a slow, slow breath. This was one of the few instances where she actually had to remain patient and not box this kitten's ears.

And then the dreaded statement came. 'That pelt' was never a good sign. With that simple statement, the most dreaded of all conversations followed; 'Where did you get it?' 'It looks...real...' and other idiotic things were said. The old Caplata could feel the fur on her neck bristle, her claws extending and retracting unconsciously. She readied herself for the disdain to follow, or the prying or any of the other thousands of emotions she had had thrown at her. This mockery would not stand.

Wait, what? It 'suits' her? Her anger went unabated, but deep inside her was a harsh sadness as well. Her Takis, her beloved Takis...Yet Sikitiko's dark eyes were filled with nothing but unconcealed hatred now. By now she wanted to go home and put a curse on the entire pridelands. She wanted to see everything wither and die, and she wanted to know that she had been the one that caused it.

"Thank...you," the Caplata spoke through gritted teeth.

Posted: Sun May 01, 2011 12:21 am

"I'm sure you do," the dark lion intoned, his voice flat, as if all emotion had been drained from it. What he really meant was anybody's guess, and perhaps he had made his comment simply for the sake of hearing himself talk. Eran didn't exactly have an ego to merit that sort of behavior, but he wasn't feeling quite like himself at the moment, and the mild irritation that had followed him all morning could easily have pushed him to do things that were out of character.

He shifted his attention back to his stock. He knew exactly where the dlo benit was, could have found it in the dark while hopping on three paws, but the lioness didn't know that. If she had realized that their encounter could have been over and done with in a rather short time, he suspected she wouldn't have been holding in her mounting irritation - which, of course, he had noticed. Eran noticed everything. He had recognized the batting and the drawn-out breath as signs of her building anger - no doubt caused by him - and the reservation that came with both.

Concern didn't much factor into his thoughts, though perhaps he should have thought twice before angering one of the caplata. For all her connections to the Petro Loa, she was in his den, requesting something that he had made, and while that didn't seem to make the journey here to get it any less of a chore, he was sure they both knew that some respect was in order. He would have done as much for her if he had gone to seek her aid.

At long last, he took up the dlo benit, and emptied some into her bowl, filling it three quarters of the way to avoid spilling. Picking up the bowl, he turned and returned to where the lioness stood, presenting it to her. "Eran." He added, almost as an afterthought. Perhaps she wouldn't want or need his name, but it was right, after all, to offer it in return for hers.